Sour Apple Bubble Gum
by EttyUlrik
Summary: Step into the past of Marcy and Bubblegum. Like, waaaaaaaaay into the past. Hope you like it! As this story progresses, its content WILL get stronger, and the rating will go up accordingly. So though T seems a little exaggerated now, you'll see why eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone. I've had this idea for a while, and though I am neglecting my other stories, I wanted to get this out before "Betty" airs. I hope you all enjoy it! Please read and review, I do so love your input :)**

Disclaimer: I do not own Adventure Time or its characters.

Marceline sat in the crumbling remains of a laboratory, huddled protectively over a small bundle of rags. Her mind raced, but she felt eerily steady. Despite having this body for the past few centuries, the literal steel nerves failed to register as something she now donned. Her breath, mostly habitual and only required for speaking, came out in long, quiet sighs. Her red eyes were set across the room, but her ears scanned around her. She was simply waiting. Waiting to be liberated. Waiting to keep her promise that it wouldn't end like this.  
The vampire's gaze seemed to bore holes into the back of the head of the creature beside her. The hunchbacked form of said being sputtered green slime over a newly polished table as it scribbled away into the yellowing pages of a thick, leather-bound book. _The Book of Life _the thing had called it moments ago, before its speech became too garbled to understand. Marceline eyed its height, scowling at the slime-soaked rags that glowed iridescent green in the light of the lantern. It was wrapped tightly- not to protect itself from the icy blast outside, but to shield itself from the icy glass inside. The cold seeped in through poorly constructed walls and wood-boarded windows reflecting the last rays of sunlight. Marceline knew she'd have to go out there soon, and she pulled her thick cloak tighter around herself. She'd needed it earlier to hide from the sun, but she felt the dangers of daylight slight to the situation she was in now.  
The creature coughed, and Marceline flinched, crouching into a threatening position and baring her fangs- not that they would do her any good. The thing turned slightly, but continued writing, and Marceline felt a small pang of guilt. It had been a tender, sentient being once; for a few decades longer than Marceline, and she more than pitied its demise. When she'd arrived at this lab a few hours earlier, the creature seemed relieved, forcing upon Marceline the little burden she now clutched so tightly. Marceline felt no resentment. She only wished she had gotten there a few months earlier…  
As the last faltering rays of sunlight flickered away behind the horizon, Marceline became painfully aware of a dull green glow emanating through the boards on the windows. She had turned away for just a moment as she studied it, but her head snapped back to the dark form in the room at the sudden lack of scratching from the quill. The rags began to soak through afresh, and Marceline swallowed nervously. Its arm shook visibly, dropping the pen and ceasing to move completely. Cinnamon strands of long, long hair fell through the dips in the rags, and the light slowly began to die in the lantern. The candle was almost spent.  
"Professor?...Professor Be-"  
It turned, and lime green eyes stared back at Marceline, pupils dilating as the eyeballs seemed to expand from behind, white turning green in the darkness. The pupils glared sickeningly, leaving nothing human in their wake, resembling the LED lights Marceline often played with as a child. The eyeballs sunk back into an empty, cavernous space, green ooze bleeding out from behind them as the last indicator of anything residing inside this head that had once held a brilliant mind. The creature stumbled forward and reached out towards Marceline, moaning terribly. It fell to its knees and embraced its own arm, fighting itself as it held Marceline's terrified gaze. It opened its mouth, the few remaining teeth falling out in great globs of green and brown goo, tongue flapping helplessly to form its last audible word:  
"..Go…"  
The tongue splashed to the ground in a heap of mess.  
As if that was the final step to losing itself, the creature tore the clothes from its body in annoyance, popping pustules full of the same lime muck, unable to feel pain. The stench of death and swamp filled the room and Marceline retched, but clutched the precious bundle tighter to her form, shielding it with her shaggy mane of hair before turning invisible and flying up to the ceiling. The creature looked around dumbly, and Marceline knew for certain the Professor was lost forever. Marceline moved silently across to where the book lay, smeared with green gore and spilled ink. She inched her hand closer, careful not to rustle the pages or disturb the table. Her fingertips closed on the corner of the book and she pulled it closer, slowly.  
The bundle gurgled.  
The next moment startled Marceline; the creature swiped at her form, but she'd been too fast, clutching the book against her side and the bundle against her chest. Try as she might, Marceline could not conceal both, so she reverted, hoping the monster would attack her rather than her charge and its treasure. The creature stumbled closer, learning to use its slowly developing third leg, and Marceline pressed against the corner of the ceiling, pushing against it with all her might. The creature was close- oh so close- and she could smell the rot of it. Her throat filled with liquid, but she held it in, looking around in a panic. Desperate, Marceline catapulted off the desk and kicked at the ceiling with all her might, wincing when the wall gave and her leg scraped against the rough plaster and branches. She snaked through the debris, earning herself a myriad of new, bloody adornments, but continued up and as far away from the danger as possible. Dozens of green, glowing hands reached for her legs and tore at her cloak as more creatures piled on the laboratory to grab her, voices rising over the whistle of air in her ears as moans and angry shrieks. She untied the thick woolen garment from her neck and let it fall to her pursuers, who were momentarily distracted by the scent of their prey on this fallen scrap of soft. It was torn to shreds in seconds, triumphant groans trumpeting through the sky. From the hole in the lab peeked the last to join their ranks; the last of its long, long cinnamon hair caught in the fingers of battered plaster walls, blowing gently in the night breeze, unnoticed by all but Marceline. As she turned and flew away, it reached for the shredded cloak and wailed into the night- mourning, Marceline knew, the precious things it didn't know it had lost.  
Only when she was a story in the sky did she hear the wailing from her breast.  
She reached back and slipped the book into a knapsack she wore, freeing her arms for the louder of the two burdens. She quickly undid and dropped the wrappings, afraid the thing's wailing was from pain and hurt. She regretted the choice when she reached the cloud line holding a very cold, very naked infant.  
The height did not concern the baby; it was freezing and in unfamiliar arms, far from the memory of warmth and sweetness that had coaxed it to sleep hours earlier. It kicked, squealing like a pig, and Marceline mused it could very well be part pig- it was pink as one, after all.  
Her musings quickly dissipated as the wailing went on, and she made awkward shushing noises as she tried to settle the thing down. It was much harder now that the covers no longer lay between them. She jiggled her arm too hard and the baby jiggled about, voicing its displeasure. When it arched and hung its head precariously over Marceline's elbow it yowled angrily, scaring Marceline half to death and earning itself an unpleasant jolt. Frustrated, Marceline huffed.  
"Geez, kid, willya hold still?! You'll blow my eardrums!" she yelled. The baby _did not_ hold still, and its wailing seemed to indicate that it would like nothing better than to blow the imposter's eardrums. Marceline gritted her teeth, but continued bouncing her arms, scrunching her brows.  
"I know you don't like me, ok? I wouldn't like me either, if I took me from a place like the one where you came from. But…but we don't have a choice. I promised to take care of you…" Marceline hugged the struggling baby to herself, shushing more genuinely. "I don't know how to make you understand, kiddo. But…" she swallowed. "…but I'm all you've got now. It's not much…" the baby stopped struggling, whimpering softly and lightly thumping its fists and feet against Marceline's collarbone. The vampire fancied it was listening to her, and she blushed, feeling suddenly very foolish for talking to a baby in the first place. Marceline sighed. "I'll do my best, I promise. I'll do my best to do…to do what _she_ did."  
Until now, Marceline had never held, or even really ever looked at a baby before. The infant seemed so soft, so fragile. The light pink hue of her skin and hair contrasted to the dead greys and blotting purples of Marceline's injured hands. The baby was life, delicate, and worth protecting. And Marceline…well, Marceline was _scared.  
_Marceline lifted the baby from where it settled in her arm, learning she was a she, and not an it. The baby shivered in the cold, and Marceline quickly unbuttoned her jacket, tucking the girl into the soft leather folds and doing up the buttons to conserve the heat the two shared.  
Despite the warmth, the baby fussed, small hiccups of grief jutting her up against Marceline's chin. Marceline unsurely pulled her close, clearing her throat of the frog the cold wind had birthed. She looked down at the pink head of the baby, taking in the smell of her. She smelled of sweets, and she smelled of love. She smelled of comfort, and comfort, Marceline thought, was what she had the least of right now.  
"Listen, babe…I'm sorry…" Marceline's voice wavered a little, and she was surprised when the kicking in her jacket stopped. When a small, warm palm touched the hollow of her chest between her breasts, she felt especially shamed.  
"I've got no warmth for you, pinky. My heart stopped working long ago." But the child's hand remained, and it thumped at the vampire's chest lightly as the baby whimpered and snuggled closer in a desperate attempt for security. Marceline tightened her hold on the infant and looked down at her, slightly startled when two bright blue eyes stared back at her intelligently: her pink eyelashes shimmered with slowly freezing tears, and her pencil thin eyebrows pulled together in what Marceline knew was grief. She'd felt it too, once, and through those baby blue eyes, she felt it again. Marceline swallowed the lump in her throat.  
"I'm sorry." She said again. And she was earnest, and the baby knew it. She stopped whimpering, and curled as close as possible to Marceline, stuffing a fist into her mouth and settling to rest. Now that the struggling stopped, Marceline felt the weight of her to be secure, and comforting. She nuzzled her head once, awkwardly, and looked ahead, flying a little faster to get out of the cold. She took a badly folded and torn map from her pocket, looking down below for the route that that would lead her to her destination, where the two would make a life together. The baby made a small dreaming noise- she felt safe in Marceline's arms.  
As Marceline carried her into their new beginning, both were liberated from fear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Some of you may find this a little boring, but I think the interaction between these two is vital to understanding their relationship in the future. Marcy as a mommy...will get easier to write as the baby gets older.**

**Hope you guys like this story, R&R, please!**

**I do not own Adventure Time or its characters.**

Marceline was tired of flying through the forest. Her face burned; she had hugged the baby close to her body the entire time, making sure the leaves of the trees scratched her ruthlessly instead of the baby. Where her pants had been ripped by the jagged claws of the broken laboratory wall, branches clawed at her flesh, making a mess of her already swollen leg. She winced, thinking that the sun would be rising soon, and that using energy to heal her injuries now would be too big a risk. She looked up and found herself staring into a dense green and black sky, unable to tell what time it was for the lack of light. She hoped she had been flying straight, at least.  
The map was useless to her now- there was no way to navigate with it while swimming through the trees. She stuffed it into her pocket, leaving her hand inside to cradle the child's leg through the supple leather of the jacket. She felt the baby shift her thigh towards the touch, and Marceline unwillingly twitched a smile. She didn't know what it was that caused the reaction in her, but whenever the baby accepted her attempts to comfort, warmth flowered in her chest that was almost kind, and tender. These emotions had lain dormant in the vampire for so many centuries that she did not know how to handle them, and when they nudged at her ribs now, she accepted the reactions they emitted without much thought, and decided to think over them the next time they occurred. Each time a new wave of emotion ran through her, however, she found herself at a loss all over again.  
Marceline had been lost in her thoughts for several minutes, and could now see the scant white rays of sunlight snaking through the trees ahead of her. Her skin began to tingle surely enough, and she pulled the jacket tighter around her ears, rising above the forest line, hissing at the pain of her scalp and eyes.  
She procured the map and looked over it once more, scanning the horizon line.  
Marceline looked into the forest, noting that she had not passed through its core, but rather cut across its edge. The most dangerous of predators lived in the center of the forest. Sure, on her own, Marceline _was _the most dangerous of predators, but she was carrying precious cargo. And besides, she was _tired._ She turned around, eyes watering from the exposure to the rising sun. Aside from the forest, the land was barren of trees, stretching into a large field several hundred acres long rendered fuzzy by stalks of grass and weeds tall as Marceline's waist. A few thousand meters away was a humongous copse of rocks, and Marceline smiled to see it. The baby stirred within her jacket, whimpering with irritation at being confined so long.  
"Shh, shh, little thing. We're home, don't worry. You'll be out of this smelly thing soon…" She unzipped her jacket to allow the baby to squint into the sunlight. She decided she preferred the dark and buried her little face into Marceline's ribs, groaning audibly and pulling a chuckle from the base of Marceline's throat. The sunlight grew more intense, angry boils erupting over her neck and face, so Marceline sped off towards the rocks, diving into the grass and through a narrow entrance swirling deep into the ground. It was significantly cooler out of the sun, and the shade from the dried grass brought immediate relief from the pain of the sunlight. Marceline could hear water dripping over the stalagmites at the entrance of the cave. She was happy to know the underwater stream was alive still, as she would need it for the baby.  
Sighing, Marceline shimmied off the backpack and unzipped her jacket, taking the fussing baby into her arms as she dropped it to the ground. The baby reached up to her face, and Marceline smiled down at her.  
"Hey there. Gotta get rid of these soiled duds. Don't want any green nast getting into our home, now do we?"  
The baby gurgled in response, squirming happily as Marceline shed her shirt. She pulled off her filthy red high tops and socks with her free hand, gently easing the torn pants over her shredded flesh. The skin was already beginning to close over the bright red flesh, and the boils receded, leaving no trace of their existence on her smooth grey skin. Marceline's wiry body was different, ignorant of the damp chill in the cave…the baby's was not. She shivered against Marceline, who quickly shouldered the pack- it had too many precious items within to leave behind or carry alone, and besides, it had been shielded by her hair- before making her way into the cave.  
Around a small corner was a house made roughly of whitewashed wood. Sharpened tree trunks surrounded the house, threatening to pierce intruders. The only way in was flying up and over the trap onto a porch leading to a heavy wooden door. Marceline stuck her finger into holes drilled into the door and clicked the locks inside, pushing through into the house.  
In the living room was a large generator, which Marceline went to first. She flipped it on, satisfied when it conked a bit before whirring more confidently. She tried the lights, which flickered on slowly to life and moved to check the refrigerator in the kitchen. She looked inside, grimacing at the smell of spoiled milk and fruit juices. She closed the refrigerator- she'd take care of that later.  
The baby had been fussing, making small sounds while tossing in Marceline's arms. The feel of skin on skin was strange to Marceline- something buried deep in memories of lullabies and hugs quickly replaced by flashes in the sky and raging sickness. Marceline rocked her gently, awkwardly, and the small palms made their way to her collarbone and the tops of her breasts. Her cheek rubbed against the softer fabric of Marceline's tank top, the small pink lips feeling, searching. Marceline blushed, taken aback suddenly by the instinct of this small creature, and she quickly offered the infant a finger to suck on. Marceline walked to the table and put the backpack on the table, searching its contents quickly as she could.  
"Hey, hey, give me a second…" The baby had a vice grip on Marceline's wrist, whining shrilly when no milk came from the pinky in her mouth. Marceline rushed through her search and found the jar she was looking for: it was small enough to fit in her hand, and the inside of the glass container was coated in thick purple goo floating in violet milk. Marceline shook it vigorously and opened the lid to replace it with a nipple- it smelled to her like milk and sweet grape jam- and moved it to the child's mouth.  
The baby took to it quickly, grunting and making small gurgling noises as she drank its contents. She sputtered, once, and Marceline tried to pull it a way a little.  
"Take it easy, babe…" The baby _did not_ take it easy, but instead continued her violent suckling, stopping only when the bottle was drained. Marceline put the little jar by the sink, remembering she had to put the rest in the refrigerator (the Professor had given her four). The baby's stomach rumbled and Marceline flung her onto her shoulder, starting the awkward baby back-pat she'd heard about as a child. A small sound, and suddenly warm ooze snaked down her back, through her hair, and into the waistband of her panties. Wincing, Marceline sighed.  
She'd needed to wash, anyways.  
Once upon a time, the man caring for Marceline had modeled this house after his own, making a second floor with a bedroom joint to a bathroom. It was in total disarray now, centuries later, when Marceline was the one watching a forlorn and needy child. Marceline stepped into the room and squinted at all the dust, clicking a bedside lamp on only to find it did not work. She tried the one on the other side of the bed, filling the room with a warm yellow glow.  
The bed was almost fluffy from all the dust. Marceline took the quilt and rolled it down from the top of the bed to the base, dropping it to the floor in a heap. She moved to her closet, happy to find clean blankets neatly folded in the shelves within. She took the largest and spread it over the bed, then arranged the pillows so the baby could lie comfortably between them. She'd been in this house once after her transformation, and she found her sweatpants and tank top inside the closet, tossed deep into a drawer beside a few scant pairs of panties. These she put on the bed beside the baby, and went into the bathroom to let the water run warm. Once it warm enough, she scooped water over herself and rinsed off the dirt and baby slime, soaking a washcloth and scrubbing more vigorously at the more stubborn stains. She turned on the shower then and washed her hair quickly, wrapping her hair in a towel and going to get the baby.  
She was mid-awake, not ecstatic and not tired enough to sleep. She contently played with her toes, but Marceline stopped her from sucking on them, explaining the green could be anywhere and it was dangerous. The baby looked at her blankly, but Marceline ignored the look, moving her to the gentle current of warm water in the bathtub, which the baby contributed to with her own yellow rivulet.  
When both were clean, Marceline folded a soft white cloth over the child as a makeshift diaper and dressed herself quickly. The clock by her bed read 12, which she knew was wrong. There was no way of telling what time it truly was- her wristwatch lay outside beside her leather jacket- but her internal clock flipped in her stomach, willing her to sleep.  
Marceline slipped beneath the thick quilt, wrinkling her nose at the smell of closet stank and remaining dust. The baby curled into a small ball beside her, and Marceline constructed a half moon with the two extra pillows on the bed to keep her from falling off. The baby's bright blue eyes followed her every movement, entrancing the part of Marceline still in too much shock from the entire ordeal to sleep. This part willed her to reach out and pull her close, and this part made her snuggle down into the blankets, child tucked firmly beneath her chin and flush to her chest. The baby happily complied.  
"No need to worry about being squashed, kiddo. I sleep like the dead."  
The baby let out a soft gurgle, and Marceline swore she understood. She ran her thumb over the soft thigh she cradled, eyes drooping in time with those of her charge. It had been a long night, and they both desperately needed to rest.

Marceline's eyes snapped open at the sound of wood breaking, and the shrillness of a baby's screaming cry.


End file.
